When The Credits End
by TheEpiclyBoredWriter
Summary: It is never addressed what our heroes go through once they return home. Sure they seem cool and confident, but are they really? For those with more experience, maybe these repeated bio-terror incidents aren't so bad. For a newbie like Moira though, returning to "normal life" after slogging through Hell isn't an easy transition to make.
1. Chapter 1

Another nightmare. Another goddamn fucking nightmare. It was sixth time this week and it was only Thursday. I had been home only two months, just two fucking months, yet every night since I've been plagued with some horrific nightmare or another. They always felt the same. A shriek, a flash of blood, the smell of dampness and decay clouding my senses. It felt like I never left that island at all. I haven't been sleeping, can't eat, can't even bring myself to turn the lights off in my room anymore. I feel like a toddler. Faux confidence was only going to carry me so far.

 _Afraid of the dark? How much of a pussy can you be? You're at home now. You're fine._

The self-reassurance never did me much good.

Glancing at the clock, I frowned at the time. Two forty-three A.M. I reached for my phone, hoping that maybe playing around on the internet might put me back to sleep. I hadn't dared mention what had happened to me to any of my friends, and as a result, my relationships all went to shit. Sure I'd tried to play it off cool, but in the end, when they asked too many questions, I'd freeze up. God I felt like a loser just thinking about this.

Rolling onto my side, I turned on my phone. It opened to my last message thread, and quietly I began to read over them. It was Claire. Well of course it was who else was I still on decent terms with? Sure, I was grateful for my life, and yes I knew I loved my family, but that didn't take away what happened. "If you need to talk-" "No I'm fine, really." How many times had that exchange happened with me and dad now? If I had only counted...Barry had to have noticed my changes in moods. God it was getting so bad I wouldn't even leave the house at night _with_ someone. Maybe if I had a dollar for every time I lied about being fine, I'd have enough money to afford all that therapy I probably needed.

I stared at my oldest message from the night, reading over Claire's texts slowly.

'You holding up ok?'

'Yeah fine. Just waiting for these fucking cuts to heal.'

'I told you it takes a while. Just spend some time relaxing and you'll be fine in...whenever you're fine.'

'Thanks, that fills me with hope.'

'What can I say, I'm not a doctor. :P'

'Was that an emoji? Next time I see you I'm gonna punch you.'

'Hey I'm still sore too. That wouldn't be fair!'

'It'll be when you least expect it.'

'Get some sleep already. You'll heal faster.'

'How do you know, you're not a doctor~.'

'Well I'm going to bed so you should too.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever dad.'

'Goodnight, Moira~ 3'

'Do that again and I'll really kick your ass.'

'3'

'Fucker.'

The conversation had almost felt normal. It was nice to forget about what had happened. Claire seemed to be holding up incredibly well. That's why she was picked for that "experiment" anyway wasn't it? She was tough. Too tough. How many times had we brushed death and Claire found the time to make a _joke_? That couldn't be healthy. Not that repressing it (or rather trying to) was healthy either.

I glanced at the clock again. Yep, still some ungodly time in the morning. I didn't want to wake Claire, but I needed to feel that normalcy again, just for a moment. Please?

'Claire?'

I started at my phone, waiting, watching, anxiously hoping for both a response and a rejection. There was no way in hell she was up. Not at this hour, no fucking chance. I went back to trying to distract myself with other internet goings-on, but all of it felt shallow and pointless. After ten minutes I was ready to give up when the message bar poked in from the top of the screen.

'Yes'm?'

'Why are you up?'

'Why are you?'

'Just wondering how you were..' I sent the message almost without thinking. God it looked stupid, felt even stupider knowing Claire was reading it at three A.M. probably curled up in bed squinting at her phone wondering what the piss was wanted of her now. Would it be too late to delete it? Yep, too late, Claire was writing back already.

'I'm doing alright. You?' I noticed right away she did not mention sleep. Either Claire was functionally immortal and did not need sleep, which at this point I would believe, or she was lying to hide the fact she had been woken up.

'Oh uh...yeah.'

'So what's up?' Alright good, keep it casual, help me fall back asleep. Smart thinking as always, Claire.

I was about to type my next response when I heard a loud crash outside. Immediately my heart froze and I was set into a panic, freezing up on my bed. I had done well to suppress all of my fear before, but I hadn't been alone then. No stupid bracelet on my arm now to tell my when to be afraid so damn it I would be.

'Fuck fuck fuck claire theres something outside fuck' I managed to write, forcing my fingers to move enough to get my point across. No text response came, and instead my phone immediately began to ring.

 _Sound brave, sound brave..._ "H-...Hello?" _Fuck_

"Moira?" It was Claire, well of course it was who else would be calling me now. Her voice was filled with concern, and she spoke in that same soothing tone she had when we first woke up in Hell together. "Moira are you alright? Talk to me."

I nodded at first before realizing Claire couldn't actually see me. "I'm here."

"What happened?"

"I heard a noise..." I hadn't talked about it before this, hadn't shown any weakness so upfront. I felt on the verge of tears. So much shit for so long... Was this what going to war was like? No way. I could tell myself this was fucking worse, that it had to be, but I wasn't sure even I believed that. The two situations just weren't on equal footing. Maybe that was for the best.

"What kind of noise? Do you need me to come over?"

Need no; want probably. "I-I'm okay Barry's- dad's home. I don't think he heard it though...I didn't hear anyone get up."

"Where'd you hear it from?"

"It was like...right outside my fucking window..." I mumbled, knowing that on the second floor I should be reasonably safe. Should be didn't mean I felt it.

"Can you look outside for me. I can be there in three minutes if I need to." She sounded confident enough. That helped.

"Just talk to me instead?" I asked, not daring to set one foot on the floor for fear of what was lurking beneath my bed. It felt so childish yet I couldn't fight the urge to hide myself away.

Claire was quiet for a moment as she thought up some topic to keep me occupied. "Would you like to come over tomorrow?" She offered. "We can go for a ride together. Get some pizza and watch a movie or something."

"Sounds like a really shitty date."

"That's the idea." She laughed, though it didn't sound entirely genuine. "Nothing quite grounds you back in reality like a few bad dates. So what do you say?"

"Can I...stay the night too? I won't take up a lot of room."

"If your dad says it's okay, sure. I don't see why you can't. Is the noise gone?"

"Yeah it's...I think it's gone."

"Can you check for me now?"

I stood up slowly, creeping over to the window. I kept my footsteps light, fearful that something may hear me and come to take me away again. Barely peaking out from behind my blinds, I saw the real horror of what lie outside. Something had knocked over their trashcans. "Fucking raccoons!" I said, feeling a quick sense of relief, followed by complete and utter shame. "Fucking scared the shit out of me..."

"Back into bed, you." Claire said, listening as I did just that, hiding myself under the blankets with the light, of course, still on.

"Look I'm sorry I made you call, it just-…"

"Shh. No apologizing for that. I told you to get a hold of me when you needed to talk. You needed to talk."

"Well yeah, but it's a shitty time to be texting."

"It's fine, Moira, don't sweat it. I'll call tomorrow and we'll set up a time for me to come get you. Deal?"

"Deal. Oh and...Claire?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for calling...It was, uh- It was nice to, y'know, hear your voice?" Damn that sounded gay.

"Any time. Need me to stay on the line or are you alright?"

While I was far, far from alright, my embarrassment drove me to say I was, thus ending the conversation. Sleep wouldn't come any easier unless I was fatigued to the point of literally passing out, and then once I'd gotten enough sleep, the dreams would return. They always did.


	2. Chapter 2

When I awoke it was from one final nightmare, but at least now was a more reasonable time to be up. At ten thirty I drug myself out of bed and tried to once more assume some kind of "normal life." I wandered around the house for a while trying to decide what to do with myself before giving up and collapsing on the couch with a box of cereal. Dried sugar coated marshmallows would certainly make me a bit happier if nothing else, right?

After around half an hour of mindless television, I took it upon myself to call Claire to see if her offer was still valid. She wanted me to call anyway, and it wasn't so early I thought she'd still be asleep. Functionally immortal and all that shit. Just as before, she seemed happy enough to hear me, though I barely understood why anymore. How I didn't annoy her at this point was beyond me. I was annoying myself by now. She reassured me she'd be over as soon as I wanted her, and I tried to explain that I'd like to spend the entire day with her if she had the time.

The plan was to do it in the least awkward way possible.

"You know I really, really miss you and-"

It failed.

I saw my mom walk in from outside once I finished my call. The door opening noise startled me, and I was glad no one saw me flinch; realizing who it was offered some comfort I guess. We at least mostly got a long through it all, as much as teenage girls could get along with their mothers. I was an adult now, technically, so that excuse was no longer valid. Still, she'd been deathly afraid when I was away. She almost lost one daughter years ago, and now she'd almost lost the other. What's a poor woman to do?

"Hey uh...mom?"

"Yes, Moira?"

"I'm gonna go hang out with Claire today. That okay?"

The look on my mother's face was an indication that about fifteen red flags had been set off in her head, prompting her to want to say something to the effect of absolutely not, that is not okay and never will be okay again. Not even if you pay me will it be okay. "With Claire?"

"Yeah. We talked last night and she said we could like get pizza and watch movies or something? It'd just be at her place probably I guess."

While Claire Redfield was a perfectly fine human being in every sense of the word, My mother had developed a distinct and clear mistrust of her. If not for the fact association with her had caused me to get kidnapped, then for the fact a thirty-four year old woman saw it fit to invite her twenty-two year old friend over for what was essentially a date probably caused a few alarm bells to go off in my mother's head regardless. The fact we'd known each other since before I was of legal age as well did little to help Claire's case, even though she had never made a stance one way or another on our relationship.

"Oh yeah? Does your dad know?"

"Not yet. I doubt he'll care though! I mean he knows her, he knows she's cool." And that Claire completely and utterly saved my ass but we weren't ready to talk about any of that yet. Probably not ever.

"And if he does care?"

"I'm sure he won't... Claire can kick ass. I'm just as safe with her as I am at home."

"Just be careful alright? And you aren't going anywhere 'til you talk with your dad!"

"Fine, fine, fine. I know. He wouldn't let me out of this house without asking anyway. He'd have an entire fucking swat team on my ass if I disappeared again I think..." In the daylight it was much easier to pretend to be okay as there were fewer shadows for mutant freaks to hide in. I liked it much better this way.

Barry would arrive sometime later, and when he did, Natalia was sure to be jogging at his heels. He had taken it upon himself to father her as well, which had surprised no one. Mom was unsure how she felt on the idea at first, though her maternal instinct was as easily convincible as Barry's paternal. Polly found herself at least somewhat amused at the prospect of being an older sister, and finally being able to pick on someone younger than her, though Barry greatly disapproved of the idea.

Eventually, Polly had wandered downstairs, and flopped onto the couch next to me. Normally, the intent would be to pick on me, but given recent events she was (slightly) less inclined to do that. We sat in silence for a while, just staring blankly at the television together.

"So..." Polly eventually broke the silence. "Anything good on?"

"Nope, never is."

"Figured."

"Hmph."

"Someone's in a bad mood."

"Always am."

"Always?" Polly frowned, reaching over to push me, but only slightly. "Nu uh. You were in a good mood last time you-know-who came over to check up on you."

"Nope, don't know who."

"The biker chick!"

I felt my face turn red, but I chose to ignore it. "Yeah what about her? Look she's one of dad's friends, not mine. We just...ended up in a really shitty place together, that's all. Doesn't make us friends."

"You two were literally friends before this. You joined that dorky group over her because you were so in love with her."

"Man shut the fuck up. I don't want to talk about this. Like, at all. I'm going over to her place today just to get away from you, you obnoxious little brat." While the interaction did make me uncomfortable, on some level it did qualify as normal. I did not appreciate being relentlessly teased, but Polly had always mocked me before things had happened. Making fun of me now helped to remind me that things at home didn't need to be dramatically different; things could go back to how they were. Did I even want that? Claire seemed to go between guns blazing and casual chilling at home in a matter of seconds if she needed to. That wasn't actually something a sane person did was it?

The front door opening startled me again, but this time it was Barry who stepped inside, half a dozen bags hanging off of his arms. Behind him, the young dark haired girl smiled with glee. Someone was certainly the new favorite, weren't they?

I watched them for a moment as Natalia skipped over to the couch, sitting between myself and Polly. Sometimes she seemed like a normal little girl, other times, not so much. I wasn't sure how to take all of this, but me and Barry kept most of Natalia's past in the dark from the rest of the family.

"Barry took me out shopping." She said rather proudly. Maybe she'd stop being weird once she started to adjust to normal family life? I had my doubts she'd ever be totally normal, but hell we could dream. "Said they already gave away all of Polly's clothes so nothing around here would fit me."

Polly frowned, crossing her arms. "To who? I don't remember that happening."

"Geez why does it even matter? What are you like fifteen now?" I chimed in.

"Uh, no I'm nineteen you dork! And you knew that!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Standing up from the couch, I gave Natalia a half hearted pat on the head before heading off to find where Barry had gone. By now, he'd set down his bags on the kitchen table, proudly showing off what he'd gathered for the newest edition to the family.

"Hey, uh, dad?" It'd been a long, long time since I'd called him that, but now, after everything that had happened, it felt weirder not to.

"Yes, Moira?" Concerned as always. It was nice, but damn it he needed to stop at some point soon.

"Can I...go hang out with Claire today?"

"Her idea or yours?"

"Hers."

"I don't see why not, then."

Standing by the counter, Kathy bristled, I bolted back to the living room to avoid a lecture on "safety". Was the prospect of hanging out with an older woman really so bad? It wasn't like she was creepy. In fact she was the opposite of creepy in my mind. She was strong, protective, chill...beautiful. The last one had always bothered me to think of, but it was fairly undeniable. Even with short hair she just looked so damn good. I was fairly, fairly certain that I wasn't into girls, but that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate a good looking one.

Alright, maybe that idea was utterly bullshit. Polly seemed to think it was anyway, and I could recall a time before all of this happened when I'd decided I might be very happy with Claire as a partner. I was young then, though. I tried to remind myself of this whenever the thoughts returned, young and stupid. Every teenager wanted to fuck every hot person they met regardless of gender, that was normal.

Claire wasn't just "hot" though. Even when we met I thought more of her than just "hot", though that part had been utterly undeniable. I had been sixteen the first time we consciously met. Claire had made claims to have known me before, even providing photographic evidence for her case. I assumed said photos were doctored at the time given they showed me smiling with Barry. Polly was there too, smiling much the same.

There had been something about her though. Behind that dorky biker jacket and generally friendly to the point of looking stupid demeanor, I saw something I was attracted to. Of course I, at the time, felt ridiculous for how I saw her, but the attraction had refused to leave.

Our first real meeting had been a massive disaster, one I would be socially haunted by for the rest of my life. Polly had taunted me into kissing Claire, but only after I'd thoroughly freaked Claire out by watching a zombie-themed horror flic with her. At the time, I had no idea any of that bio-terror-bullshit was real, but if I had been aware, I would have never subjected Claire to a film version of it. Claire had attributed the marks on her arms to natural disaster, to accidents on her bike, to anything not to do with _zombies_ of all things.

"You're fantasizing about your girlfriend again." Polly joked, noticing that I seemed to be gazing wistfully outside. "She'll be here in a minute ,I bet, to sweep you off your feet."

"She's not-…" I scowled, nodding my head. "I hope so. I called her. Mom still hates her."

"She's basically a sex-predator. I mean...in fairness."

"No she's not shut up!" I snapped, shoving Polly with one hand. "She's super not. I'm over eighteen!"

"Okay but like...you weren't before sooo..."

"That was your idea!"

"Whatever~."


	3. Chapter 3

My retort was cut of once the doorbell rang. I dropped all semblance of pretending not to care about the older woman as I bolted to the door to open it. Had it been anyone else, I'd feel like a fool, but luckily Claire did indeed stand on the other side, smiling warmly, somehow.

"Moira!" She said, holding open her arms as I fell into her eagerly.

So it wasn't the coolest thing I'd ever done, but I didn't care anymore. I'd missed Claire goddamn it! I'd missed this big loveable dope more than I could even care to admit. I'd willingly given my life away for her, well, more or less anyway. I had indeed survived, but it wasn't exactly pleasant. Nevertheless, I was home now, I was safe just as everyone else was. "Hey. Hey you made it."

"For you? Always." She said as she held me tightly. There was a sense in the air that Claire feared letting me go. If she did, I might vanish once again, this time never to be found. It was a stupid worry, but Claire had lost enough people already. I seemed to be returning to a comfortable home life, but that never lasted in her experience. Just had to enjoy it while it lasted...

It took me a long while to realize I was staring at her. Something in my mind was wavering now as I gazed at the woman. I felt something creeping up inside me, some darkness I'd fought to subdue. Flashes of her filth covered face caught me off guard as I stood in her arms. She watched me right back, and I think she was whispering to me now, trying to call me back into reality. The next thing I knew my hands were on her face and neck, trying to discern whether or not she was really here. It took me a full minute and a half to ground myself once again, and once I did, I immediately tried to ignore what just happened.

"Ride wasn't too bad? Weren't busy?" I rambled off questions, as I pulled Claire inside, hand on her wrist, the left wrist, specifically, because that one was free of ugly scarring. At night, the spot where that damn bracelet had been still burned, and I feared if I pulled on where Claire's had been, I might hurt her as well. We had scars to match now. Almost romantic.

Natalia seemed to have vanished as soon as she arrived. The girl had a weird habit of doing that, and we all did our best to explain it away. A knock on the door probably made her shy away from being seen. Polly could only watch in amusement as we entered but I chose to ignore it, it was better she think something childish than know the hideous truth. To my sister, it probably seemed my overzealous hero-worship had not faded. I did faintly wonder though, had I expected something more out of this relationship? Was there a part of me that still longed to spend my life with this woman? Did Claire see it? Probably. Were we ignoring it? Definitely.

We didn't stick around long. I packed an overnight bag as quickly as I could while Claire and Barry spoke quietly together in the kitchen. What about I couldn't really say. Things had been calm for a while, which was good for them. If life would just stay this way then maybe they could be happy; we all could. Even if things here were calm, that didn't mean life was perfect.

At least, so thought my mother as she looked Claire over. When I returned downstairs, I caught sight of the glance my mother gave Claire once Claire saw me. The redheaded dope smiled at me, immediately deciding I was the most important person in the room, and the look made my heart flutter just a bit. I could feel my parents watching us even after we said our goodbyes, but I don't think she noticed.

The woman who walked outside with an arm around their daughter? The woman 12 years their daughter's elder? She was a problem. Claire's behavior was a problem. Barry tried to keep this worry suppressed for now, I could gather that much. I knew a long time ago we'd moved to Canada because my dad worried something bad would happen to us if we stayed in the states. Because of Claire, something bad happened to me anyway. I didn't blame her. It wasn't her fault. I suspected my parents, on some level, blamed her for everything. It was easier that way, it probably made coping easier for them. Yes, Claire had been part of the rescue, but she'd been part of the kidnapping too.

I couldn't reasonably be kidnapped twice hanging out with Claire, right? Barry was unaware of the full nature of our relationship and he did not want to be aware of it. Two adults could do whatever the hell they pleased, but he was much happier not thinking about what sort of things we might be up to. It was easier to think of us as really good friends and nothing, nothing more. Although, that's really all it was, wasn't it? Yes there was a certain closeness that developed out of what they'd been through, but that was a given. It didn't mean anything unless they made it mean something.

Claire and I tried to return to our lives together before we had been swept away to hell. Well, for me it had been hell, for Claire it had simply been another very inconvenient trip. She was built for escape, I for survival as it so turned out. Not that I had been alone, but Claire had reminded me a few times how she couldn't have lasted half a year with her sanity intact. Had I?

Pushing the thoughts out of my head for a while, I took to trying to make idle conversation with Claire. "No bike today?"

"No bike today." She replied as she backed out of the driveway. "Disappointed?"

"A bit. Thought we'd get to ride off into the sunset together or something cool."

"It's morning still. Nearly afternoon. What sunset did you have in mind?"

"Ah...Hmm...fuck."

"Maybe later tonight we can do that." She offered, smiling over at me.

As we drove, I found myself once more staring at Claire again. It wasn't hard to get caught up staring at her, but this time I wasn't just admiring the view. My thoughts drifted into dark places again as I thought of those six months Claire spent alone. She thought I was dead. I knew she was in bad shape when I got back, I noticed things about her I hadn't before, but I never brought them up. She'd lost weight, her skin had paled, and, for whatever reason I still hadn't brought up, she'd chopped off her hair. As far as I knew, she'd had the same hairstyle since she was little. She'd been through this bio-terror bullshit before and never changed her hair then. Maybe I was thinking about it too much, maybe I just wanted to attribute some selfish, self-centered meaning to her changes. Claire wouldn't talk about them with me, she told me the same thing I told her. I'm fine.

I don't think we were fine.


	4. Chapter 4

Claire's idea of a date, if we could call it that, was to take me out to a shitty diner, then bum around her house all day. I realized the entire plan had been rather short notice, but it struck me as odd she didn't have more ideas locked in the back of her mind. I knew Claire had been on dates before, so I could only assume she was against recycling ideas. Then again, she had told me she wanted it to be a "bad" date to reacquaint my mind with normal life, so maybe that was part of the reason. Being out in public again was nothing short of nerve wracking. I'd tried before, I really had, but there was a sick feeling that crept up in my stomach that everyone knew. I'm not sure what I thought they knew, but they fucking _knew_. I hear crippling paranoia is the new black.

Over a mediocre burger, Claire was trying incredibly hard to make conversation with me. I wasn't sure I heard half of what she was saying, I was just nodding my head as I looked around anxiously. There weren't even that many people in here yet somehow it was all too loud for me. Had I really gotten this bad? I was _aware_ of my own anxiety but as it turned out that magically didn't mean I could stop it. It had been years, actual fucking years and I _still_ wasn't better. I was trying, I was fucking trying every goddamn day and nothing! Nothing!

Was I? Was I actually trying? I spent a lot of time locked up in my room after all…

Apparently I wasn't being very subtle about my mini freak out, because there was pressure on my hand now. I froze, bringing my attention back to my so called date. She was watching me intently, giving me a look I recognized. Her eyes pleading to know if I was okay, if I could keep going like this. Her mouth was moving to form the same question, and it took every ounce of sanity I had left to pull myself back to focus.

"Yeah no I'm…I'm doing awesome." The words felt far more sarcastic than I meant for them to be. I wanted to reassure her I was fine but, hell, that was bullshit. The pressure increased on my hand. I looked down half confused like some sort of moron. Oh, right. Claire's hand was on mine. I guess that made sense.

"Do you want to leave?" She asked slowly, not taking her eyes off mine.

I tried to count the freckles on her nose while I thought of a response. I didn't have one; she seemed to realize that. She was pulling me to my feet now and she hadn't yet let go of my hand. Was she afraid of losing me? I sure wasn't going anywhere. Nowhere to run off to, probably, hopefully, no one to take me. Claire took me to the counter, paid for our meal, and we were back out the door. I think I stood there playing with the hem of my shirt like a fucking loser.

Nevertheless, we were out of there. Claire's jeep was comfortable enough, a way to keep us protected from the outside world. We didn't talk on the drive home. Claire kept focused on the road and I imagine she was planning what to do with me. I was still planning what to do with myself, to be fair.

It'd been years since I'd been to Claire's house. I think she still lived with her brother at that point and we still lived in America. Of course I didn't _actually_ remember any of this, but I was told it had happened. She and her brother were long time family friends, and I knew Barry was probably the closest thing they had to a dad anyway. Claire didn't like to talk about family, and I only did when I was complaining (which was…pretty damn often, I admit). I knew plenty about her though from her visits to my house, plus she had my number and we'd text now and again.

What I did not know, though, was what her living conditions were like. It just never came up. I never thought to ask, and until right now it had honestly never crossed my mind. Maybe if I'd lasted a week at TerraSave I'd know what the pay was like. I sure as fuck wasn't going back to work there, yet Claire had. She cared about this shit way more than I did. I wanted out, I _needed_ out, but she kept at it. She kept at a lot of things. She was in charge of the entire branch now or something, so she was probably making bank, or at least mini-bank. She had two fucking vehicles of course she was. The BSAA paid pretty well I knew and they were basically the same thing, just TerraSave had less guns…which had at the time been alluring.

We pulled into the driveway of a small, boring looking house. I couldn't describe it any other way because it looked like every other house we'd ever passed on a street in my entire two decades of life. I guess I didn't know what I was expecting, so I wasn't allowed to be disappointed. There was a garage, but it remained closed and Claire took me in the front door. Faintly I wondered what was inside, though it was a stupid thought. Motorcycle was the answer. I think my ordeal left me with a fixation for metal shutter doors.

Inside, I noticed something strange. No, it wasn't the boring as hell décor, the worn out old couch, the collection of magazines half straightened under the coffee table. No, it was Claire. She was watching me, rubbing her hands together. Was she…nervous? Jesus Christ. I made her nervous? Was that even possible? She was an actual real adult and I super wasn't and here she was wondering how I felt about her house. It was obvious it was set up to have normal, boring adult friends over, which I guess that wasn't me.

"Nice place." I said, wondering if it'd ease the tension. It seemed to work as Claire's shoulders relaxed, and she stopped playing with her hands.

"Oh, thanks. Sorry it's not that clean. I was going to clean today but-"

"Don't worry about it. It's fine. Yeah it…where you putting me for the night?" I asked, doubting this place had two bedrooms. The look on Claire's face made it apparent she hadn't really thought of that either. She bit her lip and glanced around before speaking.

"My bed, I guess. I'll take the couch?"

"No shut up that's stupid I'm the guest. I'll sleep on the couch." _Or you could join me in your room, which might be fun too._

The thought nearly caught me off guard, I felt my face turn red and once more I was being watched like a hawk.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

Claire made an attempt to be the most gracious of hosts, but I could tell she was struggling with finding a balance between "being my friend" and "being a friend my age". She more or less decided to turn over full control of her house to me while I was there, which to me meant nothing. I was content to lay on the couch and do nothing all day if it meant I could feel like nothing had changed.

Hell, for a while that's exactly what I did. With my bag tossed next to the couch, I flopped down and decided to channel surf. I knew there was nothing worth watching on, but it didn't take a genius to figure that out. Claire had briefly excused herself to go take a phone call shortly after I came over, boring, so I decided to get comfortable. I was told I could do whatever I wanted to get comfortable, so I placed my head on the arm of the couch and threw my feet up on the cushions. I planned to sleep here anyway, so it was a good a plan as any.

I stared mindlessly at one of TV's greatest random crime shows with a title comprised of more letters than your average kindergarten room while I wondered what to do with myself. If I were still 18 and largely uncorrupted by the evils of assholes in 80s pantsuits I might have a few plans about what to do while left alone with Claire Redfield. Not that she would be up for it, but a girl could try. There was really no point in denying it, at least to myself. I had a few ideas about what Claire was really like, and none of them involved any adjectives that could describe me (girl, twelve years younger than, etc…). She was probably talking to her fucking boyfriend right now. Did she even have one? Probably. Why wouldn't she?

Kinda felt like crying after that thought. Fuck that. Fuck it hard.

Rubbing my face to calm down, I tried to ignore thinking about what Claire might be doing and focus on myself. Luckily for me all I could do was fuck all nothing. TV sucked, and frankly, so did my life. If I tried really, really hard to pretend it didn't… it still would. It was a really shitty feeling to think about someone else so much. It was probably unhealthy, but the fact was in that rotting hell pit we'd been in together, survival meant only thinking about her, and doing whatever she told me to do.

Well, for a while.

Until I died.

Except I hadn't died. I _felt_ like I died. I _should_ have died. But in that one, final moment, I was happy. Happy? Maybe not exactly, but I wasn't afraid. I never figured I had much of a life to go back to anyway, and I'd managed to save Claire. I would just make amends with my life there and be shut of it all. It was a good plan, but it didn't play out that way.

I told them all about how I was saved, told them the story of how I lasted six long months. I wasn't alone, and if I had been, I'd be dead. We all knew that. But what I did not tell them, what I did not know myself, was how I even survived the rubble. I'm sure they pretended it was a harmless bump on the head, that I was the luckiest bastard in the universe. I knew that wasn't true…

Claire had told me about a friend of hers, mostly in passing because it involved talking about her terrible late teen years, who had been infected by, but later cured of, another virus. I didn't understand the logistics of it, but basically she was magic now. Was I magic now too? Slightly magic? Did it have a time frame to worry about and one day it would wear off and suddenly I'd feel all my bones crush like they rightfully should have? Okay that was fucking crazy talk, but life was a lot more messed up than I thought before.

Like I said, I didn't think I was okay.

Claire eventually returned, looking rather worn out by whatever conversation she'd just finished with. Apparently it broke down a few emotional barriers between us, because she made a vague hand gesture and said "Move your feet."

I obliged, she sat down, and then, I put my feet right back where they were before, just to see what she'd do. She didn't react, or really acknowledge I'd done anything. I called it a victory.

"Have fun on the phone?"

She groaned, tossing her head back. "God, no."

"Wanna…talk about it?" I said slowly, doubting I could help. Everyone told me talking helped, so maybe it'd help them too? I didn't have any responses planned out though, so it could get awkward fast.

Thankfully, she shook her head, patting my leg. "No, forget it. It was just…work." I couldn't tell if she was lying or not, and I didn't think it was my place to call her on it. Mutual respect and all that shit. I don't talk if I don't want to, so she don't talk if she don't want to.

Claire seemed to drift off after that, and where she went was a mystery. I hoped it wasn't too far away, and I hoped she had a flashlight. Of course she did I was right here. Just because we weren't talking or doing much of anything didn't mean my mind was ready to shut off. I was very _aware_ of Claire right now, yet she seemed unaware of me. This became incredibly apparent when I felt her hands on my feet. Either she had a hell of a fetish she was dealing with, or she was so used to being with someone else, that this gesture came unconsciously to her. She wasn't looking at me at all, just blankly watching TV.

She definitely had a boyfriend, and I definitely just felt my heart break.

I must have done something to set her off. Maybe I flinched, maybe I accidentally whimpered at my own heart being crushed. Whatever I had done made her look at me, made her talk to me, but did not make her let me go.

"Something wrong, Moira?"

I shook my head, unable to think of a quick response. Maybe she'd done this to other people in the past, but right now she knew who I was, and that was enough to tape my heart back together.

Foot rubs, as it turned out, were the easiest way to put me to sleep, though only after years of anxiety and insomnia. When my heart finally calmed down from the realization Claire was doing this for me, not out of habit, I managed to doze off on the couch with her. I was treated to a dreamless sleep, and woke up naturally for once. Fucking jackpot. I considered needing to piss waking up naturally. It was a lot better than a nightmare.

Still half asleep, I wandered into the bathroom, did what I needed, and wandered back out. It was only then I realized Claire had left me alone on the couch. Rubbing my eyes, I looked around for her as if I might find her in the hallway I stood in. I was curious as to where she was, and the adventure to find her gave me an excuse to walk around and wake up a bit.

It was a miserably short adventure in a house her size, I admit.

A door that I assumed to be the garage door caught my attention, only because I faintly heard music coming from the other side. If Claire was having a party without me, I was going to be pissed. I didn't need sleep _that_ badly (I did). She never told me I wasn't allowed in there, so without hesitation, I opened the door on my own.

Hot damn. Maybe Claire's home life wasn't so boring after all.

The first word that popped into my head was "man cave" but Claire wasn't a man. The alternative just sounded dirty, though. Either way, a garage like this probably belonged to some biker dude who spent his afternoons getting drunk in roadside bars. I tried to take inventory of the place before Claire noticed me. A radio on a work bench played some shitty country rock song I'd never heard before, there was a recycling bin full of beer bottles (not surprising someone who went through all that she had drank so much), and a few leather jackets on the wall. Was pink leather a thing? Apparently it was, and Claire had a vest made out of it…

Next to me on the wall hung the trashiest calendar I had ever seen. I was pretty sure no one actually bought shit like this, but sure enough I was greeted by the image of a half dress blonde woman posing with a bright red racing bike. Apparently the signature on it meant a lot to Claire because it was no longer November of 2010. Who the fuck was Elza W.?

Claire looked up at me now from her spot by her motorcycle. I didn't know a thing about bikes, but she sure looked hot doing whatever it was she was doing. Hot, and, well, mortified I'd walked in on all of this.


	6. Chapter 6

I guess professional adults weren't allowed to have hobbies because the way Claire was looking at me gave me the impression I'd just walked in on her shedding her human skin or something equally as bizarre. I tried to think of a snappy comment for why I'd barged in on her sanctuary, but I had nothing, and found myself too distracted to think. I'd known she was into bikes, but I guess to this level always struck me as a fantasy. At least on my end. The whole bad boy biker thing was just movie bullshit in my mind, but I guess Claire was the exception, not being male and whatever.

She found her voice first, standing up slowly to greet me. "Sleep well?" She asked slowly, rubbing her hands on a stained towel. I could tell she was attempting to find an excuse for all of this, but words failed her.

"Sure did." I said, rocking on my heels. "So… nice place you got here." Her face turned red, and I couldn't help but laugh. I was glad Claire had hobbies to keep herself sane, but I, being her friend, figured I was allowed to tease her just a bit. "Who's your girlfriend?" I said, pointing towards the calendar with a smile.

Claire began to stammer an excuse, stumbling over to me to snatch the calendar off the wall. I blocked it with my body, shaking my head. "Come on, just tell me! I promise not to laugh."

She groaned, crossing her arms. "What's it matter?"

"I wanna know." I said, watching her sigh and give up.

"Alright fine. Her name is Elza and we went to the same college together for a little bit. She races motorcycles professionally."

"Yeah I got that much from the calendar. She your girlfriend?"

Claire shook her head, looking down at her feet. "No, it's nothing like that. We don't even talk that much anymore. I mean, we _used_ to, but we're both just so busy anymore. Maybe when she retires we'll be closer again or something. I dunno."

I nodded, wondering if there were any implications to what she'd said. I was probably just looking for an excuse to be jealous; jealous about something that wasn't even my own. An odd thought hit the back of my head, and I couldn't help but think about Elza. While I didn't know the woman, and probably never would, I wondered what things would be like if it had been her who was unlucky enough to wander into Raccoon that night instead of Claire. Would I be standing in her garage right now instead? It was possible, but I'd argue I was a hell of a lot happier with Claire than I would be with some professional loser.

Alright, I admit that wasn't nice. Claire was a professional loser _too_ but a different kind. She was cute and endearing. An actual famous person wouldn't be. Famous people were all assholes anyway. Except on TV, where they had to be nice and look friendly and normal so people would still like them. I was smarter than that, though. Claire apparently wasn't, but they went to school together so it didn't count.

"Hey, so, wanna tell me about your uh… bike?" I asked, deciding to change the subject. I had to get that blonde hottie, or idiot rather, out of my head. Elza would probably be a better match for Claire anyway, but she wasn't here, so Claire was mine to scoop up. Until then, I had to get well versed in whatever she liked, and she liked motorcycles so we'd start there. It was the perfect plan.

The only problem was I didn't know a fucking thing about motorcycles.

We'd cross that bridge when we came to it.

I knew Claire liked motorcycles, but I'd never imagined she could waste so much time talking about them. Reading the Wikipedia page on motorcycles and all the sources at the bottom would have taken less time than this, but I admit it wouldn't have been as adorable. She gave me her own personal history with riding, talked about Chris becoming a member of STARS and saving up enough money to buy her the first bike she ever owned. She seemed nostalgic of the time, so I didn't interrupt her.

That part I could handle, but when she sat me down next to her and jumped into a lengthy explanation about the internal workings of her own bike and why it was so much better than the standard I felt my brain turn off. This was going to take a bit of getting used to, but her passion kept me at least somewhat conscious.

Claire's passion did warm my heart. It was a lame thought to really dwell on, but I couldn't help but smile at her as she went on and on. I was glad she cared so much about something _other_ than work. Saving the world was cool and all, but motorcycles were too. There was a simple and undeniable fact, and that was that Claire _did_ make me happy. I'd been happy before, but not like this.

Maybe that's why I let her feed me cheap pizza and tuck me in to bed later that night. Well, not bed so much as couch. We sat up talking for a while about what we planned to do with ourselves. Claire suggested I try to go to school, I suggested I go back to work with her. We both know I was too fucked in the head anymore to go back to work with her, but I wanted to be around her. If I went off to college, I'd lose that luxury, and right now I was pretty damn sure I needed it. It was all a matter of getting Claire to agree.

She cared about me, I knew she did. The look of concern, the embraces, the gentle touches to keep me in reality. Hell, I knew she loved me too, but what I didn't know was if she loved me like I loved her. Before I finally fell asleep once more, I'd taken the opportunity to talk about our love lives. I admitted to her I had no boyfriend (or girlfriend as I was after right now), and she did the same. She told me that, in the past handful of years, she'd been very much single. Apparently the constant threat of your loved ones or yourself dying due to a zombie outbreak was enough to dissuade a person for romantic pursuits. Who knew?

The thoughts of Claire dating or not did little to comfort my mind as I slept. The nightmares were further away, but I was still aware of the damn darkness, always following me. I couldn't live this way forever. I really, really couldn't. Eventually, something woke me up, but the realization that the darkness had not left made me shriek.

Smooth…

The next thing I knew, Claire was back at my side. She'd changed into her pajamas at some point so I knew I'd been out for a while, but how long I couldn't tell. The only thing I knew was I hated this unfamiliar house at night.

"Y-…You didn't tell me you turned the fucking lights out!" I shouted at her, though I never meant to seem like I was mad at her. I was mad at myself, only myself.

She stared at me for a while, pulling me into a hug. I fell limply against her, finding I was whimpering now. I was a mess. A complete fucking goddamn mess. I could hear Claire muttering apologies, but it only served to make me feel worse. She was too good for me. Too fucking good! I began to resent it, or myself, or my life or fucking something. I wasn't sure what.

And then, I kissed her.

It wasn't magical like I wanted it to be, like I'd imagined it was. It was messy and just… sad. I pulled out of her arms far enough to press my lips to her and she just looked at me. I almost felt sick then, watching her watch me.

I felt so much worse when she looked away.

"Claire, look at me." I begged.

She did not.

"Claire!" I tried not to sob.

It was no wonder she didn't like me.

"Goddamn it, Redfield! Just-…Fuck!"

"Don't call me that." She finally replied. It probably was a lot easier for her to stare at the back of the couch than it was to look at my face.

"Then look at me…"

She did so, slowly, but I could tell it was painful for her to do so. I'd fucked up. I'd fucked up so badly. Her voice came as a distant buzz as I tried to block out the words she was saying. Dying under those rocks would have been so much easier than this.

"Moira, you don't like me. There's a word for what you're feeling… or a phrase or… a term or something. Look I don't remember but… the point is you only feel that way because of… what we've been through, okay?"

The fact she was trying so hard to explain it away was killing me. I shook my head, grabbed her shoulders tightly. I held her down. I was so sure of myself as I tried to refute it. She didn't fight me, and that was all I needed.

"Look at me you big fucking idiot! Do you really think I give a shit about biohazardous clean up? You think I gave a fuck about saving the fucking planet from monsters and all that other bullshit when I joined TerraSave?"

Claire said nothing, but I think she was slowly beginning to understand what I was ranting about.

"I didn't, okay? I mean I kinda did but I mostly just…" I eased back now, "But… It was you, okay? I joined over you…" Her face softened. I knew that she knew. She always had to have known but… god maybe she was just ignoring it like I was. It was a lot to take in, I'd known her since I was legally just a kid. She had a reputation to maintain. The idea helped ease the rejection, but I still hated it.

She nodded now, understanding what I said. Once again she hugged me, but this time she kissed the top of my head. Now my heart fluttered (finally!). She took a deep breath, and for an impossibly long moment we sat there before she exhaled slowly.

"Let's go lie down Moira." She whispered, pulling me to my feet.


	7. Chapter 7

I wish I'd known why Claire had taken me off to her room. I wanted to know what to prepare for when she pulled me onto her bed. Her room remained dark, and it bothered me more than I'd admit. With Claire next to me, though, it wasn't as bad.

At first she kept her distance, and I kept mine. We lay there silently together on our backs, staring up at the ceiling. Wow, awkward. Eventually we found ourselves moving closer to one another, if only to stave off the loneliness. Soon enough I was nestled up next to her, breathing slowly to relax myself. This was nice, this was something I could get behind.

"Hey, Claire?" I whispered, wondering if she'd even bother talking to me after what'd happened. "I'm sorry I'm so fucking pushy."

She rubbed my shoulder, and I heard her sigh. "Look… Don't apologize. It's just really complicated is all."

I sat up now, peering down at Claire. She didn't look happy, but it was pretty dark. "Doesn't have to be complicated, y'know? Maybe you're just over thinking things. I mean we _all_ do it, so it's probably just that. Plus it's… well it's late and I was stupid."

I leaned over her to turn on the bedside lamp. Just wanted to see her better, totally not scared, not me, never. I remained where I was for a moment longer, lingering on her face. Damn she was pretty, but maybe a bit less so now given I thought she might start crying on me. That'd suck… I guess I didn't look so hot either because soon enough her hand was on my face, trying to comfort me.

"There's a conversation I'd like to have with you but I'm pretty sure I could only do it drunk."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it."

"Be real, that does _not_ sound like the sort of thing you just _forget_." She was reaching for the lamp now to turn it back off, but I grabbed her wrist without thinking. She stared at me for a moment before pulling her hand back. "You know you _are_ allowed to talk to me. I mean… we are friends aren't we? Or did I fuck that up entirely?"

Claire sat up now, which I guess meant this was suddenly a serious conversation. You couldn't have serious conversations laying down unless you were dying (trust me on this). "No, no we're still friends. You didn't mess anything up. It's just" she hesitated, deciding whether or not to sugarcoat what she was about to say next or not, "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

I nodded, giving her time to finish.

"I don't know what the least shitty way of putting this is, really. But, uhh, I don't know where the loneliness ends and the actual affection begins."

It was probably the most awkward way she could have described it, so I decided to help her along. "So you don't know whether or not you want to fuck me or "make love" to me?" My addition sounded a lot better in my head, but she nodded anyway.

"I guess that's another way of putting it."

"Don't suppose you want to just throw caution to the wind and see where it goes, do you?" I offered, half laughing to lighten the mood. I knew better than to pressure Claire, but part of me wanted to at least try.

"Maybe if I was ten years younger and still cute." She replied, shrugging dismissively.

"Hey, woah, woah, what?" I found I was nearly offended by Claire's comment about herself. I guess I didn't have any right to be, she could think whatever she wanted about herself but to me it was wrong, especially given how casual she was about dropping the entire thing. "The fuck do you mean?"

She tried to explain away her comment, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, Moira, you do realize I am… getting older… and—"

"Fuck no! Fuck that! I mean, yeah you're older than me but that doesn't mean a damn thing!" If the only thing standing between me and her was self-esteem issues, I wasn't about to just take that lying down. It was bullshit, her worries were bullshit. I don't care how bad that sounds, it was the goddamn truth of the matter. "Have you ever looked in a goddamn mirror? Like, _ever?_ "

She was staring at me again, utterly confused at my outburst.

"You're adorable! You're a big fucking adorable dork! You ramble on about stupid motorcycles like some dumb kid at heart and you were happy and cute and just—Fuck!" I pulled her close, demanding she get the message, demanding she just listen to me and accept it as truth. "I don't give two shits about the fact you're older than me. Just means you've got more experience in everything. Besides, you make me happy. I _like_ being around you."

That uneasy stillness returned between us once I stopped ranting. I heard her swallow before she found her voice again. There was something ticking behind those damn blue eyes of hers. Her brain was trying to make the right choice. Morally, she probably thought she made the wrong choice in that moment when she kissed me again. Not like I cared very much.

"You wouldn't think I was that cute if you saw all my scars." She said absently, looking at the space between us.

My reply came at just above a whisper. If I'd fallen asleep and this was a dream, I didn't want to wake myself up by talking too loud. "Show me and I'll be the judge of that."

I really don't think Claire actually knew why she took all her clothes off for me because I didn't really know why I'd done it either. Sex was either spontaneous or planned, in my mind, and this felt like neither. Sex was the final outcome here, right? I wasn't about to jump on the whole virgin status thing, but I was uncomfortably aware of the fact I'd never technically slept with anyone. Messed around, yeah, but that was different than this. This felt different.

We just ended up looking at each other for a while, examining every inch of bare skin we could see as we sat on opposite sides of the bed. The bedside lamp wasn't incredibly bright, but I could tell Claire was pretty beat up. Someone who'd been through all she had had every right to look like that. At least she still had all her fingers and toes.

I felt like I should say something, but I figured I'd majorly fuck up dirty talk, so I avoided trying. "Still cute." I said as I reached out to touch a mark on her shoulder. I didn't' care to think too much on how she'd gotten it, and I knew she probably wasn't up for telling me yet. Maybe next time.

She moved closer to me now, and I silently thanked God she was making the first actual move. Claire sat by my side just close enough for me to feel her leg brushing against mine before she leaned her head to mine. I kissed her again, slowly this time, trying to savor the moment as if it might be our last. If she didn't still like me when it was over, it would be our last, and I had to prepare myself for that. Her lips were just soft enough to distract me from that fear for a while.

I don't know why I imagined Claire to be a more talkative partner, but I still found myself surprised when every word she spoke to me came as a vague mumble. It was almost as if she just wanted to get this out of her system and she didn't much care what I had to say on the matter outside of it. It felt almost impassionate, yet at the same time I could tell she couldn't really keep her hands off of me. Maybe it was my outburst, maybe it was my broken mental state, but something just wasn't right.

I tried to focus on how it felt. I could get off pretty easily with some practice under my belt, so I didn't necessarily need the romantic bullshit but the fact was I kind of wanted it. Kind of a lot, actually. Her fingers traced every curve of my body, and she seemed content to kiss every inch of me as she trailed downwards. All my reactions were there, every whimper and whine that ought to come out of something like this. Her hair tickled my thighs when she stopped between my legs, my breath caught in my throat, and I felt goosebumps on my skin. That was a pretty damn intimate thing to do, yet I just wanted something more.

And then… she stopped…

Claire pulled away, she sat up, she moved back entirely until she was on the edge of the bed, looking away from me. I was pretty sure I hadn't done anything wrong, aside from not shaving in... ever, really. I doubted she'd back out over that, though. I was damn good and ready for her too, I could feel that much as well. So why? I wormed my way up, looking at her. She was holding her face now, and if she was crying I couldn't hear it.

"Claire..?"

No response, of course. I crawled over to her, hugging her tightly. Suddenly the nakedness stopped mattering, what mattered was the fact Claire was suddenly miserable.

"I can't… Moira I can't do this I just…"

I kissed her shoulder, keeping my voice soft for her. She was definitely trying not to cry or something. I wondered how normal crying during sex was. I'd heard rumors but I figured it was all made up. "Well we don't have to have sex you know? If you don't want to we can stop, it's fine."

"It's not that. I want to I just don't deserve to."

I laughed now, pulling her back against me. "What do you mean you "don't deserve to"? That's dumb. No one deserves me more than you do right now. You're a good part of the reason I'm even alive at all, idiot."

"And I'm the reason you got caught at all." She said, limply resting against me now. "I thought you were dead. I cut my hair because I thought you were dead. It… made sense at the time. I can't remember why I bothered at all now, but…" She shook her head, turning to kiss my chin. "You were innocent before. You weren't like me. I never wanted to drag you into this messed up world of mine. I don't… really want to be responsible for taking your innocence again."

"Neither of us consented to the first thing but I'm consenting to this." I said, letting her go now. Stubbornly, I laid back down, crossing my arms. "I am _telling_ you that this is something I want. This is something I _have_ wanted. If you don't want to right now, that's fine, but if you're stuck with some weird moral idea that anything that happened before was your fault, so now you can't fuck me or whatever just drop it now, okay?" My voice came surprisingly gentle. I was running out of energy to be mad. I'd already gotten upset three times tonight.

She crawled back over to me now, laying down on top of me. She managed a sheepish smile before she asked, "you sure you don't blame me?"

"Yeah, I'm sure… Now finish what you started already."

She obeyed. Oh god did she ever obey. My forgiveness had opened up a whole new world for us to explore. I was still unsure but now she was talking me through it. Claire seemed so much brighter and more at ease now. I'd did it, I'd finally managed to find myself a girlfriend, or a lover or something. Fucking jackpot, literally. It didn't matter to me how many girls Claire had probably fucked to learn how to use her fingers like that, I was in heaven because of a woman who was made there.

Then I discovered I was a biter. My head was swimming and I admit that rational thought was long, long gone by the time I was kissing Claire's neck. Something primal prompted me to bite down, not hard, of course, but I still bit down. The same primal urge that made me bite made Claire pull away quicker then I'd ever seen her move.

Zombies… right…

Urgency flooded her face. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a threat. She recognized me still, but the two ideas of "me" and "bite" didn't quite click in her mind. We had a fuckload of problems to work through. Claire wasn't half as cool and collected as I thought she was, for better or for worse, she just hid it better.

She came down off her adrenaline high pretty quickly when she realized what had happened, and both of us sat there looking just as embarrassed as when we started. I figured now was a good a time as any to say it, but I might end up feeling stupid later. Wasn't exactly magical like in the movies, but…

"Hey, uh… Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"I… Did you know that I… Love you?"


End file.
